


Star-Crossed

by schmulte



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, firstprince, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Alex is a principal ballerino with a hatred for Henry Fox. What happens when they're paired up and forced to dance together as star-crossed lovers? Will their partnership crash and burn, or will they cross uncharted territory and make ballet history?
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 59
Kudos: 112





	1. Rivalry

There are few things that faze Alex Claremont-Diaz. X-rays, sometimes. Horror movies maybe. His sister, definitely not. New challenges? Bring them on. Massive, life-altering changes? No problem. Alex is unbendable steel, hard rock against the pushing waves of the universe, a solid foundation for other to stand on. There's a reason he's a principal member of this company- he is dependable, unshakable, solid in the face of distress. Nothing gets to Alex Claremont-Diaz. 

Except for Henry Fox. 

He wouldn't say they're rivals. Sure, they had been called as much in the days of their youth, and it's what most people would agree they are. But rivalry indicates a relationship, of which they have none. Rivals are in competition only in sparing moments. Rivals can still be friendly offstage. "Rival" is a title given when two people who are good at the same thing simply exist. Alex does not dignify the term with an association to Henry. Mortal enemies seems more fitting. Arch enemies. The antagonist to his protagonist. 

Whatever you want to call it, Alex's hatred is pure and unadulterated. They played nice when they were kids, of course, for good PR and international relations and other things that made Alex's ears bleed. They'd shake hands on stage and pose for pictures. But Alex has been studying Henry for years; he knows every fake smile and laugh, can detect the slightest shift in his robotically tense posture. Which is how he knows it's all for show. 

The only time Henry seems really at ease is when he's performing. He'll spend every last second in the wings fidgeting with his jaw set and eyes hard, looking like he's going to explode if you so much as breathe in his general direction. But the minute he steps on stage, his whole hard exterior melts away- his jaw unclenches, his face relaxes. His posture takes on something annoying elegant and his movements flow with an easy grace that shouldn't be possible in a person that stiff. 

Alex hasn't seen Henry since his last YAGP when he was eighteen. Any sane person would have let it go by now- he's twenty-two, they're both at different companies, living their own lives, creating their own success stories. But Alex doesn't let his grudges die. Which is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he has Henry's Instagram post notifications on. For hate-stalking purposes. So, when Alex gets a notification that Henry has posted to his Instagram story, naturally, he has to check it. 

It's a stupid picture of him from his performance of Romeo and Juliet last year (Alex watched the whole thing on YouTube, for research), looking regal in his costume in the middle of standing there like a fucking statue. His face is so stoic Alex wants to punch it. He clicks the _read more_ button and scans through the usual long-winded caption about the show and how much he loves his partner and blah blah blah until he gets to the real meat of the post. It makes him want to throw up.

_Though I am sad to be leaving my fellow company members @RoyalBalletLondon, I am excited to officially announce that I will be joining @FirstLadyBallet as a principal dancer. I will miss London, but I look forward to my move to New York and am grateful to @Zahra for granting me this opportunity._

Alex feels his throat tightening. White-hot heat sears through him and all he can see is red, red, red. It has to be some kind of joke. Henry is playing an elaborate prank on him, that must be it. His body starts running on autopilot, and before he knows it he's holding his phone to his ear and hearing Zahra grumbling an annoyed "what" in his ear.

"Tell me it's not true."

He can practically hear her roll her eyes over the phone. "What's got your dance belt in a twist now?"

"You know exactly what. Henry Fox, Zahra? Really?"

She sighs. He knows she's pinching the bridge of her nose right now, but he can't bring himself to care. "He's good at what he does, Alex."

"He's a horrible person!"

"Listen to me, you little shit. He danced with the Royal fucking Ballet, do you understand how big this is for us? I don't care about your stupid childhood rivalry, he's joining this company, so you can either shape up or ship out. Do I make myself clear?"

Alex sighs. No matter how angry or valuable he thinks he is, Zahra's word is law. "Crystal."

"Good. Now don't call me on a Saturday again unless someone's dying."

It's not like Alex has always hated Henry; quite the opposite, in fact. He looked up to Henry once upon a time, when he was just a skinny eleven-year-old watching his sister's ballet classes with green-tinted envy. That video June showed him of Henry, twelve years old and moving across the stage like he lived there lit a fuse in his chest. He was the first boy he'd ever seen dance and little Alex thought it was beautiful and wondered, if he tried, if he could be beautiful too. 

He danced anywhere he could after that. In the hallways at school, in his room, in the studio after June's classes. He started in after-school programs, then the park district, until he was good enough to join his sister's studio. He worked and scraped every day for what he had. He'd followed Henry's career as they both aged, trying to memorized every little nuance in his movements, trying to repeat them just exactly. 

When he was fifteen, Alex was finally ready for the thing he'd always waited for: the Youth America Grand Prix. The very stage where he'd watched Henry dance on hundreds of times in hundreds of videos. He practiced day and night until his muscles were numb and his bones ached, but the excitement of it all overwhelmed any pain. He was going to compete. He was going to show the world what he was made of. And Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor was going to be there. 

He had a plan all worked out- he was going to come off stage and offer Henry his hand as a friendly show of competition. He was going to smile, and Henry was going to shake his hand, and then they'd talk about ballet or Star Wars and Alex would make his first male dancer friend. It was going to be amazing. It was going to be life-changing. 

But when he came off stage, he made the mistake of listening to what Henry was saying instead of giving himself a few more precious seconds of basking in the glow of applause. That's all it would have taken, just a few measly seconds, and all would have been well. But instead, Alex had let the excitement of meeting his hero overwhelm him, and he clung on to each syllable as Henry leaned over to his teacher and said: 

" _That's_ what I have to compete against?"

That had started the initial hurt, but like the naive rookie he was, Alex had still gone over and offered his hand. Henry looked at him with a disdain that should only be reserved for vermin. He didn't even shake his hand, just gave him that look, the one Alex had nightmares of before every competition and performance since he was eleven. _You don't belong here._

He had gone to the bathroom and cried until he threw up; he even missed the awards. To make matters worse, he had been the one to find him. Henry had been the one who knocked on the stall where Alex was curled up and still gasping, handed him his bronze plaque, and had the _audacity_ to act as if nothing happened.

After that, Alex worked with the determination not to win Henry's approval, but to demolish him. He trained even harder and competed every chance he could. He saw all competitors as Henry and didn't stop until he was confident he'd beat him out for the gold. He was maybe a little too cocky a little too loudly, and thus, the rivalry had begun. 

Now, after four years since their last meeting, Alex just feels nauseous. What if Henry curses him out in front of everyone? What if he punches him? Or worse, what if he's completely indifferent? 

Henry is as annoyingly beautiful as always. Perfect hair, perfect posture, and the way those tights hug his powerful thighs is just ungodly. He's as expressionless as usual, even as Zahra gives her welcome speech, and he only falters when his eyes land on Alex. He takes a little satisfaction in watching the bob of his Adam's apple, the way his shoulders tense. Alex holds the eye contact and doesn't break it until Henry swallows and looks down at his feet. He can't keep in the smirk even as he claps with the rest of them, and keeps it until Henry takes his place at the barre and Zahra clears her throat. 

"Now, as some of you know, this year's opening show will be Romeo and Juliet," she pauses for the stray cheer and wolf whistle. "After watching all of your tapes from last season, we've decided on our lead roles."

Whispers break out amongst the company. Role announcement is always exciting- none of the principals ever know what they'll get. Zahra loves to play with genders and sexualities in ballet, especially old traditional ones like Romeo and Juliet. It'll be interesting to see who she casts as the main lovers. Alex can already feel his fingertips beginning to tingle. 

"The corps will remain the same, as always, and you'll all be able to re-audition for a principal spot in the Spring. I'll be playing the nurse, and Shaan will be the Friar. Nora will be taking on Mercutio, June, Benvolio. Liam will be taking the role of Paris.

Congratulations are exchanged and Alex hugs his sister, but he can't ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. That's four male roles taken already and he doesn't like the way he can feel Henry's eyes on him. He really hopes this doesn't mean what he thinks it means.

"Now, that leaves our two love birds. Alex, you'll be Juliet. Don't fuck it up."

He tries to smile as his back is patted and Nora kisses him on the cheek, but the world seems strange and far away. Because there's only one principal left. One principal who Alex happens to hate. He really hopes what the thinks is about to happen won't come true. 

"Henry," Zahra finally says with a sharp smile, and Alex can swear she's doing this to punish him. "Congratulations. You're our Romeo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballet terms:  
> YAGP- international ballet competition for dancers ages 6-20  
> corpse- pronounced like "core," the ensemble of the company  
> principal- featured dancer, given lead roles or special parts


	2. Pas De Deux

"Henry. Congratulations. You're our Romeo."

The words echo in Henry's head as he tosses and turns in his new bed. His New York apartment is nothing like his flat back in London- every twenty minutes there's a police siren going off somewhere, or the jarring honk of a car horn. His neighbors are lovely people, but they argue at all hours of the night and play their Italian music far too loudly. There's a multitude of distractions, and still all Henry can think about is Zahra's words and the look on Alex's face after. 

He shouldn't feel bad. He worked hard to earn his spot as a principal, to earn this role. He deserves this part, and no one should get to make him feel this way, especially Alex Claremont-Diaz. And still, something in his chest squirms at the thought. 

He had hoped, maybe, that the two of them could start fresh. After all, they're no longer competing against each other, so why should their rivalry continue? But the way Alex looked at him when he walked into the studio had dampened any hope of reconciliation.

Giving up on getting a good night's sleep, Henry groans and picks up his phone from his nightstand. 3 am. He has to be at the studio in four hours. 

He tries not to think about Alex. Tries not to think about the first time he saw him perform, how effortless he made his variation look. How impressed he was that he got bronze at his first YAGP. The confusion when he found him crying in the bathroom and the hurt that followed when Alex started ignoring him. To this day he still has no idea why Alex hates him- surely he can't be holding a grudge about a third place win from when they were teenagers?

He does the only thing that might distract him from himself. 

"Henry, babes!" Pez's smiling face fills up the screen of Henry's phone, and his shoulders instantly relax. Throughout everything, his best friend has been the one constant in his life. He always knows how to cheer Henry up, and usually he achieves it by just being himself. 

"Pez," he breathes. "it's so good to see your face."

His friend quirks a neon pink eyebrow. "Uh oh, I know that look. Tell me everything." So he does. He recounts every frustrating detail, even if he's already heard it twice before; the fight with his grandmother, the horrible flight over, the ambulance that has driven past his apartment at least twenty times in the past hour. But mostly he talks about Alex. When he's done, he catches his breath and watches as Pez's expression shifts. He takes his time in his reply, biting his bottom lip. 

"Hold on. We're talking about YAGP Alex, yeah? The one you've been completely in love with since you were sixteen?" Henry nods timidly. "And you're going to be playing Romeo to his Juliet, which means you get numerous kissing scenes and a whole lot of physical contact." Again, he nods. "And you're upset because...?"

Henry groans. "Because he hates me!"

"Ah, right, right. And how do you know that?" Henry fixes him with a stern look and he raises his hands in a placating manner. "Look, Haz, all I'm saying is you haven't seen the guy in four years. How do you know you were the reason he was making faces? He probably just had a leg cramp or something."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Have I ever been wrong about anything in my entire life?"

"Yes. Many times."

"Well. I'm not wrong this time, trust me."

Henry really hopes it's true. 

His first private rehearsal with Alex is precluded by three cups of coffee, two cold showers, and one call to a travel agency about ticket prices for a one-way back to London. Alex is late, a trend that Henry has noticed in his past week with the company, so he takes his time to warm up and think happy thoughts. Early Gray from his favorite coffee shop back home, sharpei puppies, warm sweaters, the way Alex smiles after grand allegro with his cheeks flushed-

"Oh, you started already." Henry's attention is turned towards the doorway, where Alex is casually leaned against the wood, arms crossed over his chest. His black shirt is just a little too small, pulled tight across his torso and highlighting the lean muscle there, and his tights are noticeably dirty. He can't help but wrinkle his nose and watches Alex roll his eyes. "What? If you're frowning at me being late, you'd better get used to it, sweetheart."

Henry pretends that little term of endearment isn't making his heart flutter and juts his chin forward. "I was looking at your tights, actually. They're filthy."

Alex pulls a face. "They're lucky. You don't wash lucky tights."

"Of course, my mistake." he can't help but let the sarcasm drip into his voice, and Alex only raises one eyebrow, looking somewhat...impressed, perhaps? Henry keeps a close eye on him as he comes to the barre to warm up. 

He'll never admit it out loud, but Henry is a little jealous of Alex, and always has been. He's excellent on stage, there's no denying that, but there's something in the way that Alex rehearses that really gets to him. Because Alex doesn't just rehearse, he _performs._ Every little movement- every flick of the wrist, ever plie is carefully and methodically executed with the grace of someone with a thousand eyes on them. Henry finds himself getting lost in watching sometimes. 

Zahra gives a knowing smirk as she walks in, catching Henry's eye, and he quickly looks down at the floor. "Diaz, you're here earlier than I expected," she says, and Shaan snorts next to her. 

"Well, a leading man has to set an example." Alex replies cooly with a wink. Zahra only rolls her eyes.

"You two all warmed up?" Henry nods and watches Alex do the same. Now that he's no longer moving, Alex is a little tensed. His jaw is set hard and he is very obviously trying his best to avoid eye contact with Henry. "Good. Since you two have never worked together before, we're going to start with some basic partner work before we get into the actual choreography. Shaan and I will be here to demonstrate and make corrections. Now, let's start with a simple hold, okay? Henry, if you could come join Alex in the center here."

He swallows and makes his way behind Alex, trying to ignore the way his hands clam up. Alex's gaze is reflected sharply in the mirror, and Henry can see the message behind his eyes: _don't you dare drop me._

He places his hands tentatively on his waist. Alex looks suddenly small beneath his hands and Henry feels fear creeping in for the first time. He's partnered with plenty of girls before, but everything about this feels...different. And somehow more important. 

They go through the motions of simple partnering moves. Henry catches Alex muttering angrily under his breath occasionally, but Zahra and Shaan seem to be impressed. He does get scolded for holding him too gently, and revels in the smallest of goosebumps erupting on the back of Alex's neck when he squeezes a little tighter. 

Things don't go as well once they get off the ground. Alex's weight and proportions are so different from a girl's and Henry finds himself off-balance. From what he can see in the mirror, it's obvious that they aren't comfortable with each other, and the translation of that to their physical partnership is obvious. Henry's arms are too stiff, Alex lands too hard on his leg, Henry holds him either too loose or too tight.

And then he does the worst thing a partner can do. He drops Alex. 

"Ow- Jesus fuck--"

"Oh my god," Henry is flustered and sweating and he doesn't know what to do. His eyes dart rapidly from his reflection in the mirror, to Alex on the ground, to Shaan, Zahra, then back to Alex. He scrambles down to the floor without a plan and ends up sort of hovering over Alex. "Are you okay?"

Alex glares at him with eyes blazing. "What the fuck was that?" then, with venom: "You can't just throw me around like that, I'm not a rag doll."

Henry frowns, all semblance of concern gone. "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so damn stiff."

"Oh, _I'm_ stiff?"

"Maybe if you were more concerned about your posture than your _lucky tights_ \--"

"Listen to me you crumpet-eating asshole--"

"Enough!" Zahra's voice breaks through the argument and both men shut their mouths at once. Henry looks a little guiltily at his feet. "Alex, are you hurt?"

"No, I'll just have a bruise, thanks to James Bond over here."

Henry folds his arms over his chest and scoffs. "Was that supposed to be an insult?"

Zahra swats the both of them in the back of the head. Henry yelps and rubs the sore spot, raising an eyebrow at Shaan. _Can she do that?_ He only gets a shrug in return.

"I, personally, don't give a shit if you two actually get along, but it's obvious in your partnering that you can't stand each other. Not trusting your partner is dangerous, and it affects your entire performance. No one wants to pay money to see a Romeo and Juliet who can't go two seconds without fighting. Yes?" He and Alex both mumble a meek "yes ma'am." "Good. So, I'm assigning you homework. Some hands-on experience, if you will."

Henry shares a glance with Alex. At least he looks about as nervous as he feels. 

"What exactly does that mean?" Alex asks hesitantly.

Shaan claps a hand on Henry's shoulder. "You two are going on a date."

Henry fidgets with his tie and checks his watch for the fifth time. Alex was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago and Henry's wine glass is almost empty. He had taken the liberty of ordering a bottle for the table before Alex arrived. He's sure he won't mind. 

He feels entirely more nervous than he should. After all, this isn't a _real_ date. Just a bonding exercise to help them with their partner work, like businessmen going to play laser tag at a corporate retreat. Strictly business. 

Alex arrives ten minutes later, looking flushed and wind-swept and oh so handsome in his button-down and chinos. If he weren't so annoyed, Henry could eat him up then and there. Instead, Alex sits down with a huff, and Henry fixes him with a glare.

"You're late," he says simply. Alex shrugs and steals Henry's wine glass, taking a sip; the drink stains his lips a deep red and Henry has to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

"Good wine," Alex replies, making an exaggerated show of licking his lips. "fancy place. I didn't know you were such a gentleman, Fox."

"I like to show my dates a good time. Even forced work ones."

"I'm flattered."

Henry pours Alex his own glass and leans back a little in his chair, taking it all in. Alex really does look handsome in street clothes, and his curls are fluffy and hang loose and wild, as opposed to the hairsprayed mass he sees at rehearsal. It's nice to see Alex like this, but also a little strange, seeing Alex out of his uniform. It feels intimate, somehow. Exposed. Henry searches desperately for a topic of conversation to fill the awkward silence. 

"So. Do you, er--"

"Can I ask you a question?" Alex interrupts. 

Henry blinks. "Of course," he clears his throat. "Alex. Of course."

Alex leans a little over the table and folds his hands in front of him. He smells like vanilla, today, instead of the usual scent of sweat and talcum powder that covers the studio. He finds himself taking an unconscious deep breath. 

"Why are you here?"

Henry feels his eyebrows raise a little in panic. "Oh, well, Zahra picked the place out, we can go somewhere else if you like--"

"No, no. I mean here. In New York. At First Lady."

Henry pales. That is not something he's prepared to discuss, not with Alex. Not like this, over a forced first date. Not when he knows Alex hates him. But how else can he gain Alex's trust, if he doesn't tell the truth? "Is there something wrong with wanting a change?"

"No. But people don't leave the Royal Ballet for companies like ours."

"I thought First Lady was named one of New York's rising star companies last season?" he hopes Alex doesn't hear him trying to deflect the question. 

"You know what I mean."

Henry sighs and takes a long sip of his wine. He watches Alex rest both his elbows on the table and rest his chin in his palms, as if he's watching an entertaining show and not Henry about to spill his tragic backstory. "My...grandmother danced with the Royal Ballet. My mother and father as well, and my brother is involved in production management. It was expected that I join the Royal and stay there, and I did, for a while, but. Well. They're not as...accepting as you'd think they'd be. Of people like me."

He watches with great apprehension as Alex's expression shifts between emotions. His brows furrow, then raise, and he straightens up in his seat. "Oh. _Oh_."

"My best friend, Percy, he runs a nonprofit for LGBT youth, after-school programs and the like, and I would help out occasionally and teach a ballet class or two on the weekends. After a while, I...I was looking at these kids that looked up to me, they saw me as a role model, and I realized I wasn't even half as brave as them. They were so unapologetically _themselves,_ and there I was, hiding who I was and doing what I was told and nothing more. And I decided I didn't want to hide anymore. I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible, and Shaan is an old acquaintance of my father's, so I sent in an audition tape and...here I am." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly- he doesn't think he's ever talked for this long uninterrupted. "My grandmother and I had an awful row when I left. I hadn't seen her that angry since you beat me at the prix five years ago. Do you remember that?"

Alex nods a little, expression unreadable. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "I remember. You did Flames of Paris."

He smiles a little. "That's right. And you performed Don Quixote."

Alex rolls his eyes, but he smiles over the rim of his wine glass. "Don't remind me." They chuckle a little bit, and just when Henry thinks he's getting somewhere, Alex closes himself off again. The sharp line of his jaw hardens, his eyes turn cold, and the smile slips from Henry's face. "That was a long time ago, though."

"Alex--"

"I've gotta get going, I'll Venmo you for the wine, okay?"

"Alex." 

"I'll see you at rehearsal." And just like that he's collecting his coat and practically running out the door, Henry still calling his name even though he knows it's pointless. He tries to think back to the conversation, to what nerve he must have struck, but there's nothing. He leans back in his chair and drains his glass, feeling as if he's dropped Alex all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballet Terms:  
> Don Quixote and Flames of Paris- classical male ballet variations that can be performed at competitions like YAGP, usually no more than 2 minutes long, performed in costume.  
> Pas De Deux- literally translates to "dance of two," a variation performed by 2 dancers, typically a man and a woman, and usually involves lifts and partner work


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for some implied sexual content and internalized homophobia

Alex is late to his next private rehearsal, as usual. He runs into the studio with a coffee in one hand and his vans in the other, knowing Zahra will have his head if he walks in with street shoes again. He slept through his alarm this morning and it threw him completely off-balance; his five am run got pushed back to seven, his six am shower to eight, and so on, until he realized he was ten minutes late for his train and would be twenty minutes late for rehearsal. And it's all Henry's fault. 

He had been up all night thinking of what he said at dinner the other night. How Henry had smiled and reminisced about their competition days as if it were a treasured memory. As if they had a relationship that could be looked back on fondly. And the way he talked about his family, the expectations they had of him, the way he stood up to his grandmother...it did something to Alex. He's not sure what yet- he still hates him, he'll always hate him. But for some reason it doesn't feel as good as it used to. 

And he's not homophobic. He's not. He went to pride with June and Nora last year, and likes Liam and his boyfriend. He has nothing against gay people. But for some reason, the thought of Henry is something that doesn't sit quite right with him. Alex is comfortable in his masculinity- he can admit another man is hot, and he's not exactly worried that Henry's going to start hitting on him after all these years. But he can't shake the feel of his internal organs twisting as he watches Henry stretch. He can't help the way he shivers with Henry's palm resting against the curve of his hip, thumb absent-mindedly rubbing the bone as Shaan gives corrections. 

"I'm still missing the chemistry from both of you, and you're both still far too stiff. How was your date after the last rehearsal?"

Alex makes brief contact with Henry in the mirror before glancing back down. He hears Henry clear his throat behind him, one of those things he always does when he's nervous. He hates that he has that catalogued in his mind, amongst hundreds upon hundreds of useless facts about Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor. He could write a book on the meaning behind every smile, every subtle crease of his forehead and narrowing of his eyes. 

"Fine," Henry replies too quickly. "It was fine."

Shaan presses his lips into a tight line and folds his arms over his chest. "Good dancing isn't the only thing you need for a pas de deux to work. Your technique is excellent, but it doesn't mean anything without the emotional connection, especially in Romeo and Juliet."

"What do you want us to do then?" Henry asks. The low rumble of his voice in his chest vibrates against Alex's back, and goosebumps erupt on his forearms. Zahra joins Shaan in front of the mirror and fixes them with a serious look. 

"You two need to get deep. Your partner needs to know you better physically and emotionally than anyone else, that includes friends and family. Henry, if you can't anticipate Alex's every move, you're going to drop him again. Alex, you need to start trusting Henry or this will never work."

"I'm going to give you two some trust exercises," Shaan interjects. "they're the same ones Zahra and I used when we first became partners. Go home, have a glass of wine, and try these out with each other. Come back on Monday ready to work as a team."

Alex wrenches himself from Henry's grasp as quickly as he can, the skin of his hip left feeling cold and absent without Henry's hand there. He sits on the ground to takes off his pointe shoes, watches in the mirror as Henry put on a pair of slacks on over his tights. Of course Henry would wear those to rehearsal. Of course. He pulls off his toe-pads and rubs at the arch of his feet. He hadn't dance en pointe in months, and his feet aren't exactly welcome to the change. 

He feels more than sees the tap to his shoulder, whips his head around too fast to look at Henry. His blue eyes are wide with apprehension, and the corner of his mouth is quirked up, only slightly. A nervous smile- Alex knows it well. He holds a jar of Tiger Balm in his hand and offers it to Alex. 

"Want some?" Alex nods minutely and takes it from him, working it into the cramped muscles of his arch; he sighs in relief. "Do you have time today? For the trust exercises?"

"I've got plans with my sister, but I can do tomorrow morning. We'll have to go to your place, though. My studio's not going to be big enough."

He watches the slow rise and fall of Henry's Adam's apple, the faint red of his cheeks. "Oh. Right, of course." He clears his throat yet again. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Do you need my address?"

"Nah, I'll just have Shaan text it to me." He hands Henry the Tiger Balm and watches him leave, a little clumsier in his step than before. 

He meets Nora and June at the club a little after ten, ready for a night away from Henry and all the complication he brings. They're already sufficiently drunk and grinding against each other. June grins brightly when she sees him and runs over to wrap him in a bear hug. 

"Oof- hi Bug." 

"Alex! I'm so glad you could make it." Nora plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek and pulls June off him. "How was rehearsal?"

Henry flashes briefly in his mind, and he shakes it away with a tense smile. "Doesn't matter. Let's get drunk."

"Shots!" June cheers. 

Four shots of tequila later, Alex is feeling warm and loose and relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that he finds himself in the bathroom with a stranger, tall, dark, and handsome, with his tongue in Alex's mouth. When he closes his eyes, he can imagine it's Henry's hands on hips, fingers digging into his ass; Henry's mouth pressing kisses to his neck, Henry's voice whispering in his ear "let's get out of here." He pictures Henry as the one he pulls inside his apartment, pushing him on the bed and straddling him. Later, when his heart is beating fast and his breaths are coming in quick bursts, it's Henry's name he cries out in the dark, in the arms of another man. 

He wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache. The blinds are closed, at least, but his body aches and his sheets smell like old sweat and sex. He can only half remember what he did last night, but he's guessing it didn't end with him going home alone. There's something else, too, something important that his body is trying to communicate through a twist in his gut, but he doesn't have a clue what he's missing. 

The alarm on his phone blares, and the calendar reminder that pops up has Alex groaning. _Henry, 478 E 21st ave, 1 pm._ It's 12:30 now, and he groans again, loudly, before getting out of bed. He can't believe he slept in this late. 

Forty five minutes later, after a cold shower and a cup of coffee, he's knocking on the door of Henry's brownstone. Of course, _of course_ he lives in a fucking brownstone in a posh part of town. And of course, when he opens the door he looks absolutely amazing, perfectly put-together, even on his day off, and that twisting feeling is back in Alex's stomach. Henry frowns at him, full bottom lip jutting out just a bit. 

"You're late," is all he says. It seems to be the only greeting he's capable off. 

Alex shoves his hands in his pockets. "Long walk from the subway station."

Henry's eyebrows raise comically into his hairline. Alex would laugh if he weren't so hungover. "You took the subway here?"

"Not all of us can afford a place with a parking garage. You gonna let me in or what?"

Henry swallows but nods, mumbling an "of course, of course." Alex follows him inside and kicks off his shoes, looking around at the interior. It's what he expected Henry's apartment to look like- impersonal, blank. There are no pictures of friends or family anywhere on the walls, almost no decorations. It's orderly and polished and clean, just like Henry. When he looks back he can see him blushing. Alex quirks an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You have an, er..." he gestures to his neck. 

He takes out his phone and opens the front-facing camera. There's a bruise on the side of his throat, blooming a dark purple. He flashes Henry a wicked grin and puts his phone back in his pocket. "Told you I had plans last night."

He relishes the way Henry's cheeks flush a bright pink. "Right. Let's get started, shall we?"

The trust-building exercises are fairly simple and completely tedious, and yet, they fail at every task. The obstacle course Henry leads him through while blindfolded gets knocked over, the egg they have to toss between them gets smashed. Alex can see Henry getting frustrated in the way he rakes a hand through his perfect hair, the hard set of his jaw. 

"This isn't working," he groans after the second egg breaks. 

"Really? I think it's going great." Alex smirks at Henry's groan. 

"Must you always act like this?"

"I don't know what to tell you, sweetheart, this is just how I am."

"No, it's not. I've seen how you act with June, with Nora, Liam, hell, the entire _company._ You never go out of your way to antagonize them, only me." Alex stays silent, presses his lips together, watches as Henry slowly boils over. "I don't understand it. We're adults now, can't we just drop this ridiculous rivalry act and move on?"

Alex can't help but bark out a surprised laugh. "You think that's what this is about? Some stupid competitions we used to do when we were teenagers?"

"What else could it be?"

Face darkening, he folds his arms across his chest and steps forward, encroaching on Henry's space. He can see the sweat beading on his brow. "I heard you. My very first competition, when I stepped off stage, you were talking to your coach and I heard you."

Henry's eyes widen. "I--"

"' _That's_ what I have to compete against?' That's what you said, isn't it?" he scoffs. "You couldn't even refer to me as a person, you talked about me like I was just some...some..." He feels his throat start to close and the tears welling in his eyes and he looks straight at Henry, watches how he flounders, how his mouth opens and closes then opens again. "You looked at me how everyone has _always_ looked at me- because I'm half Mexican, because I'm a guy in ballet, because I'm just some dumb little kid from Texas with stupid dreams, whose mom had to make his ballet costumes because we couldn't afford the custom-made shit you had. You told me I didn't belong there without even speaking to me."

"Alex, I--"

"And you know what the worst part was? The worst part was how _excited_ I was to meet you, Henry fucking Fox Mountchristen-Windsor. You were my goddamn hero." he laughs, a little bitterly, and wipes a tear away from his cheek. "I spent my whole life looking up to you. I watched your stupid videos on YouTube and thought 'yeah, that's what I want to be when I grow up.' What a fucking _idiot_." Henry reaches out to him and he recoils away. He pulls himself up to his best posture and swallows hard. "I don't care what Zahra has to say. She can kick me out of the role, she can kick me out of the company for all I care, because I will never, ever trust you." 

He walks all the way home and doesn't look back.


	4. Wherefore Art Thou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to the Gray Area server as always, and especially floatingaway4 for helping me figure out "ballet snogging"  
> see end notes for ballet terminology

Their next rehearsal is the worst one yet. They're sloppy and more at odds than ever before; Alex will barely even look at Henry, and Henry doesn't blame him. He drops him again, and the weight wrenches his shoulder. Zahra doesn't even bother to yell at them, just dismissed them with a disappointed shake of the head.

The worst part, he thinks, is Alex. There was no banter today- no quips, no glares, no antagonizing whatsoever. Alex's eyes were wide and blank, the fire that was once lit behind them gone cold. Henry wishes for some kind of reaction. He wants Alex to yell, scream, slap him- _something_. The stony silence he finds himself trapped in is worse than he imagined, and he has no one to blame but himself. 

If only he could just explain himself; he wants to drag Alex into the nearest supply closet and lock the two of them in together, not let him out until this is all fixed. Five minutes alone with him, that's all he needs. Five minutes and this can all be fixed, and they can at least be friendly enough to be colleagues. He doesn't dare hope for a relationship more than that, however much he wants it. And he does want it; he's wanted it since he was sixteen. But Alex is an unattainable goal, the fruit hanging above Tantalus, close enough to tempt but just out of reach.

"What happened between you two?" Shaan asks him after Alex has left the studio in a rush. Henry sighs and runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. 

"I fucked up, Shaan. And I don't know how to fix it. Alex can barely look at me, how am I supposed to get him alone so I can explain myself?"

Shaan claps a hand on his shoulder. "Alex is stubborn. If he won't listen, you need to make him. Don't give him a choice."

Henry makes the decision then and there. He throws on his clothes and drives to Alex's appointment in a rush, rehearsing what he'll say in his head. He takes the stairs two at a time, and before he knows it, he's pounding on Alex's door. He lets a minute pass with no reaction before knocking again.

"Alex, I know you're in there." Still no response. "Please, I just need five minutes alone with you so I can explain. Five minutes, and then I'll leave you alone forever, I promise. But I'm not leaving until you hear me out." He hears a few locks click, and sighs as the door opens a crack, stopped by the chain, and reveals Alex's narrowed eyes. Henry sighs inwardly and smiles, albeit a little nervously. 

"Five minutes?" he asks. His tone is missing the usual venom- he just sounds tired. Henry nods and feels a brief moment of panic as the door closes again, but it melts with the sound of the chain being undone, and the door opening. Alex steps aside to let him into the apartment, and he takes a tentative seat on the edge of the couch. It's a small place, but cozy, and feels more like a home than his own flat. It smells like Alex- vanilla and something spicy. 

Alex sits on the other end of the couch and brings his knees up to his chest, watching Henry closely with a look of apprehension. He makes a show of setting a timer on his phone and sets it down on the coffee table. "Okay. You have five minutes."

Henry swallows. "I...I'm sorry that you heard that. I never meant to hurt you." he ignores the way Alex scoffs, steeling himself and pushing forward despite the lump in his throat. "I was a different person back then. I was under a lot of pressure and I didn't always handle it the best way. And, to be honest, when I watched you perform...I was jealous. You had this way of commanding the stage that I was never capable of, you still do. You were so confident, so unafraid even though it was your first prix. You rattled me."

Alex's eyes have turned wide and watery, but his expression is unchanged. "Why did you say it, then?"

"I let my jealousy get the better of me," he sighs. "I...I didn't know how to handle it. I had never been caught so off guard, so I reacted the only way I knew how. It was cruel, and I never would have said it had I known you were listening. I wouldn't have looked at you that way if I knew your history. I am truly sorry, Alex. I swear I've changed."

They sit in silence. He watches Alex's gaze turn down, then up, then down again, gnawing on his lower lip. "We never talked about the bathroom."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "I didn't think we needed to."

"You never said anything. All this time, you could have said something."

"I could have."

"So why didn't you?"

Henry looks down in his lap, plays with the hem of his sweater. "I get panic attacks sometimes. Not as much as I used to, but back then I'd have them all the time. I'd be a hypocrite to go around telling people you'd cried in a bathroom when I'd done it so many times. And I didn't bring it up with you because I knew, if it were me, I would have preferred to keep it private." He pauses, sneaks a glance up at Alex while his eyes are down. "It was because of me, wasn't it?"

Alex only nods. The timer goes off, the sound distant in Henry's ringing ears. How could he have been so stupid, to think all would be forgiven in as little as five minutes. When he had been the reason Alex had locked himself in that bathroom all those years ago. Knowing he was the reason behind all that hurt...he feels like he needs a hundred showers to wash away all that shame. 

Alex reaches over and slowly snoozes the alarm. Henry can only watch in shaken anticipation as he considers for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "I don't...completely forgive you."

"Right," he swallows. "of course."

"But I'm willing to try," Henry perks up at that, tips of his ears turning red. "Zahra's right. This isn't going to work if we don't trust each other. And I know what I said before, but I really do care about this role, and this company."

"Oh," he breathes out, relief flooding through him. Alex holds out a hand to him and Henry shakes it, pins and needles at his fingertips. This is going to work. 

"Let's try those trust exercises again on Thursday, okay?"

"Yes. Yes, let's. Can I drive you to company rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Oh, well--"

"Please. It'll make me feel better. Besides, I can't keep letting you show up late. You said yourself that a leading man must set an example."

Alex nods, and the grin that spreads on his face is like the sun coming out after a rainy day.

He parks his car outside of Alex's building the next morning at ten and watches with morbid curiosity as Alex rushes out his door at 10:08. He's got his dance bag over his shoulder, spare tights and shirts bulging through the zipper, and he's wearing basketball shorts and a sweatshirt over his tights. He looks rumpled and adorable as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and throws himself into the passenger seat. 

"Good morning," Henry says experimentally, gaging Alex's response. It wasn't too long ago that they were fighting, and he isn't quite sure where they stand; the last thing he wants to do is push things and make Alex uncomfortable. "Have a good run?"

Alex sighs and slouches down in his seat. "Some asshole was walking his dog and didn't clean up after it," he glances around the car, letting out a low whistle, hand running along the leather interior. "nice car."

Henry blushes. "Oh, um. Thank you." He watches Alex stretch and fold his arms behind his head, feet coming up to rest on the dashboard; he tries not to grimace at the thought of the dirt. 

"So, you buying me coffee or what?"

"Happily, as soon as you get your disgusting shoes off my leather interior."

Alex rolls his eyes, but plants his feet on the floor all the same. This is good, Henry thinks. Their banter is playful, equal. They trade quips back and forth as they get their coffees at the drive thru- Henry teases Alex for his caramel crunch Frappuccino ("That's nothing but sugar, Alex") and Alex, in turn, gives Henry grief for his London fog ("You're gonna go to a coffee shop and order a tea you could make at home?"). 

It is, overall, a good day. A good rehearsal. Alex en pointe is beautiful in their privates, but seeing him on flat is a whole other beauty. He is powerful in his movements, and Henry can see how he became a principal so quickly- he can take on any role, fluctuating between the feminine and masculine with little effort. 

He partners with Nora for partnering across the floor, and finds it lacking. They work well together, of course, but it doesn't feel the same as partnering with Alex. He wonders if Alex, too, feels something empty in his heart with his hands on June's waist. 

After, Henry drops Alex back home, with the promise to be there even earlier the next morning. They'll go to their private and then back to Henry's for the trust exercises- Alex has promised to bring a bottle of wine if Henry orders a pizza. When he gets home, he smiles until his cheeks hurt, then smiles some more. 

Thursday's pas de deux rehearsal keeps him in high spirits. Now that they're getting along, their partnership feels natural, and he can see the agreement in Zahra's eyes. He lifts Alex as if he weighs nothing, with just the right amount of firmness in his grasp. They start to get into some real choreography, practicing the balcony scene. 

He takes a water break while Alex learns his variation, and finds himself completely enraptured. He picks up the steps quickly, barely even fazed by the difficulty in the pointe shoes. Alex never fails to impress him, and it's a miracle he keeps his head on straight when it's time for the adagio. Holding Alex's hand in his, he can feel the warmth spreading through his fingertips- when Alex moves Henry's hand to over his heart, he can feel the beat there, keeping the tempo for them.

When the kiss scene comes, they're both breathless and pumped full of adrenaline. He looks down at him, grateful for the advantage of his few inches over Alex, and pulls the slightest raise of an eyebrow. Alex's eyes are enough of an answer- wide and full of _yes, yes, yes._ He knows it's only because he's so invested in the part, but he allows himself to imagine that Alex is saying yes because he wants to kiss Henry as much as Henry wants to kiss him. 

He leans down, slow, with the music, and ever so gently places his lips to Alex's. He is warm and soft and pliant, and it is natural in the way that Henry's hands go to his rib cage, lifting him up in his pointe shoes until he's at his full height. It's timid, the way Alex kisses him back, like fourteen year old Juliet experiencing her first kiss. 

Alex is flushed when he pulls away, lips parted and swollen, eyelids still half-closed. He allows himself the smallest reward of imagining him like this, just for him, without the music and the shoes, without the choreography, without Zahra and Shaan watching to make corrections.

And just when Henry allows some semblance of happiness in, when he thinks that he might actually have a real chance, he watches the way Alex's face crumbles. The way his eyes widen not with longing as before, but with apprehension. Fear. The way he can barely mumble out an apology before he's gathering his things and running out the door, leaving Henry shell-shocked and alone with an Alex-shaped hole in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItQse5rcxo8  
> here is a video of the balcony pas de deux Alex and Henry did at rehearsal from Misty Copeland's run of Romeo and Juliet with ABT  
> adagio- the part of the grand pas de deux that features partner work  
> variation- little solo parts of a pas de deux


	5. A Rose by Any Other Name

Things had been going fine. Their rehearsal was great- they flowed with a natural ease he'd never had partnering, even with June. Their lifts were solid, and he was starting to get used to the chill that would go up his spine with Henry's hands on his hips. Zahra was even happy. Things were going fine. 

Until that kiss.

He knew it was coming. He _knew_ they'd have to practice it eventually. And why should he have been apprehensive in the first place? Henry is a good looking guy, and it's just one little kiss between co-workers. It's no more complicated than any other job. And yet. 

And yet it was more than that. The way Henry had kissed him with such a careful tenderness, his hands over Alex's ribs...he's never experienced a kiss like that before. It set off fireworks in his brain and set his ears ringing. It made the tips of his toes tingle and his face go red. And he wanted more. He wanted to bury his hands in Henry's stupidly perfect hair and pull him down, to kiss him until there was no breath left in his lungs, and that terrified him. So he ran. 

He ran all the way home and didn't look back. And now he's shut up in his apartment, curled up in his empty bathtub with his head between his knees. He and Henry had kissed. He and Henry had kissed, and he had _liked_ it. Even now, he can still feel the faint impression of Henry's lips on his own- he brings a hand up to brush against them reverently. If he concentrates hard enough, he can conjure the ghost of the kiss, feel the warmth of Henry again, the taste of tea on his tongue. 

He's not supposed to like Henry. He's not- he's hated him since he was fifteen. It's why he knows so much; it's why he has every touch, every look, every smile catalogued. It's why he knows how Henry is feeling without even having to speak to him. It's why he obsessively watched his videos at the Royal, it's why he stalks his Instagram still. It's why his stomach twists when Henry looks at him and his nerves set on fire with every gentle touch. It's why, those weeks ago, when he went home with that stranger from the club, he thought of Henry.

It all comes back to him now. The club, kissing in the bathroom stall, the slurred words whispered in his ear. He said Henry's name. He said Henry's _name_. He had gone home with a man- that's normal, right? It's normal, for a guy to get drunk and go home with anything with a heartbeat. It's normal that he did that a couple times. It's normal that he and Liam had...whatever they had a couple years ago. It's just a guy thing. Right?

He does the only thing he can think of. He calls Nora. He doesn't even let her say hello before he's barreling forward with his question.

"Am I gay?"

A moment of stunned silence. Then, "what?"

"Am I gay?" he repeats, a little exasperated. 

"You're serious?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, okay. Tell me what happened."

He runs a hand through his hair, scrunches up his face, and groans. "I don't know! I thought I hated Henry, and we kind of worked it out but we weren't really, you know, friends or anything, and then today we learned the balcony scene and we kissed and-and--"

"Alex, Alex, slow down. You and Henry kissed?"

"At rehearsal. And I know it's just a work kiss and it wasn't, you know, but it felt..."

"Real?"

"Yeah," he swallows. "what does it mean, Nora? I, I _liked_ kissing him. I wanted to keep kissing him."

"I can't tell you if you're gay, Alex, only you can figure that out. But it sounds like you really like Henry. I mean, you've been obsessed with the guy since you were eleven." she sighs. "You don't have to rush this, okay? Only you get to decide how you identify. You'll figure it out, on your own terms."

"Yeah. Thanks, Nora."

"Love ya. Call me if you need anything."

"Love you too."

He does some serious introspection after that. He considers every interaction with Henry since he was fifteen, and realizes how much of an idiot he was to think any of that as platonic. The obsession with Henry's hair, with his stupid golden-retriever smile, his strong thighs- it had all been right in front of him the entire time, he'd just been too blind to see it. And, after another call with Nora, he realizes the drunken hookups with other men weren't strictly platonic either. That should have been obvious. 

He does some digging on the internet, researches sexuality and gender identity and homophobia in ballet. He watches coming out videos, ted talks, university lectures. It only takes him two hours before he realizes that straight people probably don't spend this long wondering if they're straight. 

Then the full weight of rehearsal hits him again. Fuck, he just ran out of there with no explanation. Zhara's going to kill him, and Henry....oh, Henry. He's probably losing his mind. What was he thinking, just walking out of there like that? Then he has to slap himself; just because Henry is gay, it doesn't mean he's interested in Alex. He can't just assume. But that kiss...it felt so much more than a kiss. It was a breakthrough, a beginning. And he's sure that Henry felt it too. 

He's sweaty and panting by the time he runs all the way to Henry's brownstone, but he doesn't much care. The cold stings his cheeks and his knuckles feel dry when he raps them on Henry's door. It all feels like a strange case of deja vu, really. Here he is, in the same position Henry was just days before, standing outside his apartment, knocking with his heart in his throat. He knocks for five minutes before Henry opens the door, and he almost hits him in the face. Henry looks sleep-mussed and perfect, and his legs look so delicious in just his boxers. 

"Alex," his eyes widen a little in surprise, and the tips of his ears turn red. "it's one in the morning."

"Can we talk?" He watches him blink for a moment, but he nods and lets him in. Alex feels like he's going a mile a minute, kicking off his shoes and whirling around to Henry at breakneck speed. He's wearing a Royal Ballet tee shirt over his boxers- it's adorable. Alex wonders how he ever thought he was straight. "I'm sorry for running out of rehearsal like that."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "And you woke me up at one am just to tell me this?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He really should have thought of what to say on the run over. "I- you're so...you're so fucking perfect all the time."

"Ah, so you woke me up just to take the piss, it all makes perfect sense now."

"No! No, just. Just listen. Look, I...I don't want to be your friend."

Henry's face drops. "Oh."

"No, no, no not like that. I- fuck, Henry."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Alex, and I'd like to go back to sleep now."

Henry turns to go, and Alex grabs him by the forearm without thinking, shouting a "wait, Henry" before pulling him forward. He grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him down, hard, for a kiss. He feels Henry's hands go to his hips and the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away before they can go too far. He watches Henry's face, the pink flush of his cheeks, his wide eyes, his full lips. His hands don't leave Alex's hips, fingers almost bruising. 

" _That's_ what I was trying to tell you."

"Oh," Henry clears his throat. 

"Listen, I-I just kind of figured out I'm not exactly straight, and I'm still really confused. I'm not sure about everything yet- but I'm sure about you."

"I-I don't understand."

"I want you. If you want me, too."

Henry pulls him in by his hips and kisses him again. He lets it go long a little longer, licking into his mouth, tasting the faint spearmint of Henry's toothpaste before they're pulling away again, gasping for air. 

"Fuck, Alex," Henry breathes. "I've wanted you for years." He pushes Henry against a wall and presses kisses to his lips, his jaw, his chin; he likes the feel of Henry squirming beneath him, whining. "We don't have to do anything. This is a very big deal for you, if you don't want a relationship--"

" _Please_ shut up." He punctuates the statement by biting down on the spot where his neck meets his collarbone, and Henry groans. 

"Alex- stop, stop, Alex." He grabs him by the chin and brings his face up to meet him, and _fuck_ if that isn't the hottest thing. Henry's pupils are blown wide, but his brow is furrowed, serious. "I...fuck, I really want this. But you've just come to a big, life changing realization. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

Alex presses another kiss to Henry's mouth, sweeter this time. "Never. I could never regret you." 

"Promise me, if we do this, we'll talk after." 

He takes Henry's hand and kisses it, lips open-mouthed to his palm. "Promise."

And they do. Alex lies on his stomach, Henry's arm draped over his back, and they talk. They talk about Henry- about when he first realized he was gay, his coming out, his difficulty with his grandmother and his brother and the Royal. They talk about Nora and June, about the boy Alex kissed at pride when he was drunk on sunshine and vodka lemonade, about his relationship with Liam two summers ago. 

"I don't know if I'm ready for..." Alex gestures around him. "everything. I don't want to tell anyone at the studio yet, not until I figure everything out."

Henry nods, tracing the dimple on Alex's lower back. "Of course."

"But I like this. Whatever _this_ is." Henry hums thoughtfully. Alex could just devour him like this- this relaxed Henry, not worried about work, all messy hair and post-sex glow. He takes a shaky breath. "I should go." 

Henry shakes his head, presses a kiss to Alex's shoulder. "Stay the night. I'll make you breakfast in the morning and we can talk some more."

"Mm. Okay. Only if you promise to wear a ridiculous apron while you're doing it." 

Henry laughs from his belly, full and bright; It vibrates against Alex's chest. "Deal." Then, more thoughtfully. "I want you to know you have my full support. Whatever you decide, whatever label you choose or don't choose."

"Yeah?" Alex asks with a yawn, snuggling into Henry's side. 

"Of course. A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet." 

"Thanks, Romeo." he teases, and he falls asleep with a smile on his lips and thoughts of Henry in his head.


	6. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for implied sexual content

Henry wakes the next morning with Alex in his arms, and for a moment he thinks he's still dreaming. The warm weigh against his chest is heavy and comforting, the dark curls his nose is buried in are soft and smell like Alex. He watches Alex's bare chest rise and fall and runs his hand along his shoulder, his waist, the curve of his hip. Loathe as he is to leave the bed, he promised breakfast, and he wants it to be ready when the boy in his arm wakes up. 

Carefully detaching himself, he throws on a pair of sweatpants and pads over to the kitchen, slipping his bright blue 'kiss the cook' apron over his head. Pancakes, he thinks, this morning, and tea. Coffee for Alex with plenty of sugar and cream. How lucky he is, to have woken up with his arms around the man he loves, to be making breakfast for the two of them, Alex's coffee order memorized. Sixteen year old Henry would have died of happiness; Twenty three year old Henry still might.

Last night had been something out of his dreams. Never in a million years had he dared to hope Alex would feel the same way about him. But still, something nags at the back of his mind, a little voice telling him not to get his hopes up too high, to let Alex take his time. He only just came to a sexual revelation yesterday, Henry can hardly expect a committed relationship so soon. He hopes for it despite himself. 

Alex comes in silently after breakfast is done, looking devastatingly adorable his boxers and one of Henry's old Royal tee shirts. Henry forces a nervous smile and sets the table with plates. "Good morning."

Alex flashes a sleepy smile as he sits in one of the old wooden chairs at the table, crossing his legs over each other in a child-like fashion, leaning his elbow against the table and resting his chin in his palm. He looks good like this, well rested, content; it makes Henry's heart flutter. "Morning. Nice apron."

"Oh-" he feels the tips of his ears go red with sudden embarrassment. "it was a gift from Pez. His personal brand of humor."

"It's cute." A tension settles a bit, the air thick with it, and Henry swallows down his fear as he sets the food on the table and sits across from Alex. He can see the apprehension on his face, the way he bites his lower lip and his eyes dart around the room. "So...last night."

"Last night," he agrees. He can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, leaving crescent-moon shaped imprints in the delicate skin. 

"It was great," Alex rushes out, and Henry breathes a sigh of relief, maybe too quickly. " _You_ were great."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming."

"I just...I just don't know what to do. I like you," he reaches across the table and takes Henry's hand, squeezing a little. "I'm just not sure how we're supposed to do this."

He releases a shaky breath, bringing his other hand to trace the lines on Alex's palm- his life line is long and happy, callouses strong on his fingertips. "We can take it slow. We'll go at your pace; whatever you need until you figure things out." He hesitates as Alex nods, resists the urge to run out in a fit of panic. "How about we start with dinner? No sex, no talking about work, just the two of us getting to know each other."

Alex's face shift to a slow smile, his nose crinkling just slightly. God, Henry wants to kiss him so badly. "Okay. Okay, no sex. I can do that." Henry laughs, and he feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. 

"Whatever you want, Alex." They eat their pancakes and talk some more; somehow, Henry finds himself apron-less, pressed up against the kitchen counter with Alex's hands around his neck, his palms resting firmly on his hips. He tries to speak in between kisses, feeling quite uncomfortable in his sweatpants. "Mm- as much as I want to keep kissing you, I'm afraid I won't be able to resist taking you on the kitchen table."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Alex grins against his lips, and Henry has to physically pull away, drawing a low whine from Alex's throat. "Okay, okay. You're right. Taking it slow."

He gives him another short peck and a swift pat to his butt. "Shall I take you home?" Alex groans and rolls his eyes, but he lets Henry drop him off with the promise of picking him up for dinner at seven tomorrow. He called Pez as soon as he's home, recounting all the details of last night (well, all the appropriate details, anyway, despite Pez's demand for them). He feels better, after establishing the no-sex rule, after talking to Pez, after taking a moment to himself to think about everything that happened last night.

He picks up Alex the next night at seven, dressed in his best black suit and holding a bouquet or roses. Alex looks handsome all dressed up, gelled-back curls and freshly pressed chinos. He drives with his hand resting on Alex's knee, listening to him go on and on about a Ted Talk he just watched on sexuality. 

He pulls out Alex's chair for him at the restaurant and orders them wine- in French, just to impress him- and watches Alex's carefully contained smile, the dimple that forms on his left cheek. 

"I know you said no talking about work," Alex says halfway through appetizers. "but if Zahra complains about our chemistry on Monday, I might have to slap her."

Henry laughs and sips his wine. "We do work well together when we get along, don't we?"

"We do. I'm excited for the bedroom scene." he wiggles his eyebrows at Henry, and he chokes on his wine. It's worth it when he hears Alex's laugh. "Not like that! Pervert."

"Oh _I'm_ the pervert, am I? As I seem to recall, you were the one trying to jump my bones the other night."

"Touche," he winks. "Is it different this time? With Romeo and Juliet? I know you were in the corps when you did it with the Royal."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "Stalking my instagram again, were you?"

Alex sputters and presses an offended hand to his chest. "Me? Never." 

"Well," Henry chortles. "it's certainly different to be a part of the chemistry instead of just watching it. Honestly, I thought the lifts from the balcony scene would be harder, but with you...they seem easy."

"We owe Zahra a huge thank you. Maybe flowers."

"I'll have a plaque erected in her honor."

It's very hard to keep up the no sex rule after a few glasses of wine and an evening of Alex's smiles, but Henry is a man of his word; he stubbornly drops him off at his door with an all-too-chaste kiss and nothing more. On Monday, the tension between them is palpable. Delicate touches are met with a silent heat, an intensity and intimacy that changes the dynamic of their performance considerably. They work together as one unit, and Henry can predict Alex's every move , meeting him with a steadying hand each time. 

When Henry places his hands on Alex's waist and spins him to face each other, mere inches apart, it's hard to resist kissing him. His brown eyes are wide and naive, pink lips puffing out just slightly in an adorable little pout. The work feels like almost nothing, and it's a wonder to Henry when they finally stop and he finds himself sweaty and red. Alex is in the same state too, but his eyes and bright and his pink cheeks are lifted in a smile. 

"Great work, you two," Zahra commends them. "nice job on the chemistry. Tomorrow we'll rehearse the whole party scene with the company- Alex, we'll see how you and Liam do on your pas de deux tomorrow and decide if you need extra private rehearsals. We'll keep doing privates with just the two of you until all your pas are rehearsed and perfect."

"On Friday," Shaan cuts in. "the two of you have an interview with _The Post_ , so do try to remember that you not only represent yourselves, but the entire company as well, including Zahra and I."

Henry watches Alex's eyes widen. " _The Post?_ We've never gotten an article that big written about us before."

"Exactly," Zahra says. "so don't screw it up. Now, let's go over the balcony scene one more time and then I'll cut you loose."

Henry doesn't know if it's the adrenaline of rehearsal or the excitement about the article or both, but Alex is more captivating forever, and far more handsy. He flashes Henry winks beneath long eyelashes, slips in just a little tongue during their kiss. He practically drags Henry to the bathroom when they're finished, locking the door behind them and immediately dropping to his knees. Henry has to swallow hard over the lump in his throat.

"Alex--"

"I know we said no sex, but you're just really, really doing it for me right now. Can I please just suck you off and then I promise I'll be good after that, scout's honor."

"Well," he clears his throat. "if you promise."

Of course, Alex doesn't keep it, but Henry doesn't call him out on it. They can hardly keep their hands off each other after that, and rehearsal isn't much helping, not with his hands constantly roaming Alex's body and him looking so good in those tights. On Tuesday, they rehearse the party scene with the entire company, and Henry only feels a little jealous when he sees Alex and Liam dance together. It's ridiculous, really- he and Alex haven't discussed being exclusive yet, and he knows Liam is in a committed relationship. Still, the way Liam clutches at Alex's hips sends anger bubbling in his throat, and he has to lock the two of them in an empty studio after for some 'extra rehearsal time.' 

They arrive at the interview separately on Friday- Alex still doesn't want to raise suspicions, and Henry respects that- and take their seats in the chairs Zahra had set up in the studio. The interviewer is a blonde woman, maybe in her early fifties, and she smiles at them from her chair and sets her tape recorder down in her lap. Henry is nervous as hell and may have possibly dry heaved a couple times this morning, but Alex is calm enough for the both of them. He wishes desperately to reach out and hold his hand.

"So Mr. Fox," the interviewer smiles over the tops of her glasses. "how are you finding your role here at First Lady in comparison to the Royal Ballet?"

Henry adjusts himself in his chair, sits up straighter, dancer's posture. "I miss my family at the Royal, but I love it here at First Lady. Zahra is an excellent creative director, and I love being a principal, especially as Alex's partner."

"Speaking of your partnership with Mr. Diaz, you caused quite a stir back in London when you came out- how do you think your friends at the Royal Ballet feel about you performing in a homosexual rendition of Romeo and Juliet?"

Henry's facade falters, only slightly, and he slaps a fake smile back on. "I think they're proud of me for earning a leading role. Alex is a wonderful Juliet and a better partner; I wouldn't want to perform the part with anyone else."

"And you, Mr. Diaz? What are your thoughts on this casting decision?"

Alex smiles next to him, confident, runs a hand through his hair. Henry feels like he might throw up. "I trust Zahra's decision."

"And you're not worried of the potential consequences of this?"

"Consequences?"

"There are rumors circulating, speculations about your sexuality--"

"My sexuality has nothing to do with my dancing. My work life and my private life are separate."

The interviewer's smile slips just slightly, not quite reaching her eyes. Henry feels his chest swell just a little at Alex's response to her prodding. "Of course. And are you finding creating chemistry with your partner easy?"

Henry sneaks a glance over at Alex and finds himself smiling at the fond look on his face. "Very. Henry's an excellent partner."

"And are you feeling the chemistry outside of the studio as well?"

"We're good friends," Henry interjects. "and we're professionals, first and foremost."

"Hm," the interviewer does not look entirely convinced. The interview ends shortly after that, and Henry ends up back at his apartment with Alex, listening to him fume and watching him pace the carpet. 

"It's bullshit!" he says for the tenth time. "she barely asked us about the show, or about the company. She just wanted to know the details of our personal relationship!"

"People love a gossip, Alex."

"It was all she wanted to know! What's the point in writing an article about the ballet if she's not even going to _ask_ us about it--"

"Alex, dear, please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet." Alex huffs and flops down in his lap; he runs a hand in circles over his back, pressing a soothing kiss to his temple. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault, I dragged you into this."

"No," Alex holds his face in both hands. "it's not your fault. It's hers for being so...obsessed with all this."

"Let's just watch a movie, hm?" He presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. "I can order some takeout from the Chinese place." But Alex pauses, sucks his bottom teeth between his lip; Henry knows that look. "What is it?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but...what exactly happened? When you came out?'

Henry sighs and leans in to Alex's touch. "Nothing, really. I'm sure it was all much bigger to me than it was to the rest of the world. But, as I said, people love a gossip. Word got out and I was told in no uncertain terms that I didn't have a hope of ever making principal. My grandmother made it clear that if I didn't 'grow up and take some responsibility for the family,' I'd be cut out of the will and her life."

"I would think they'd be more..."

"Accepting? I thought so too. But the Royal Ballet has been around for nearly a century; English people are stubborn. We don't like change and we don't like challenges."

"How public was it?"

"Not very. But it was enough." he sighs and kisses Alex's forehead. "Let's not dwell on it, alright? It was in the past; I'm happier now, with First Lady. With you."

They eat Chinese food and have a Star Wars marathon on Henry's couch, Alex's head in his lap and Henry's fingers running idly through his hair. When _Empire_ is over and the cardboard containers are all empty, Henry looks down on the sleeping boy beneath him, and wonders what exactly they've both gotten themselves into. He knows Alex is worth any trouble for him, but there's no way to tell if Alex will feel the same. If he will feel that Henry is worth it, too.


	7. #Halex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for forced outing, homophobia, and a panic attack

_Rising Stars of the Ballet World Shatter Gender Stereotypes_

_Alex_ _Claremont-Diaz, principal dancer with First Lady Ballet Company, one of New York's fastest-rising companies, has no qualms about playing opposite a man in First Lady's up coming Fall showing of Romeo and Juliet. He will perform as Juliet alongside Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor, former corps member with the Royal Ballet and now principal with First Lady. Fox Mountchristen-Windsor made quite the splash last year when his coming out story was shared by_ The Daily Mail, _but Claremont-Diaz says he isn't concerned with any potential scandal._

_"Henry is a great partner," Diaz said to me when pressed about his relationship with Henry. "we're very close, on stage and off." Henry claims their relationship is strictly professional, but this reporter has seen many a hiding couple in her day, and can guarantee that all that chemistry isn't entirely an act. I know I personally will be watching how their relationship develops, and look forward to seeing it played out live on stage this November._

"She barely put a word in it about the actual show. What did I tell you, Henry?"

"Alex, darling, come back to bed." 

He hasn't stopped pacing since he got the twitter notification on his phone at eight. They've been trending all morning- fancams of them with old footage from their YAGP days, hashtags like #princiPALS and #RomeoNoHomeo. Strangers all over the world are speculating over their relationship, and no one is talking about the actual show. It's incredibly frustrating- no one cares about the ballet section of _The Post_ , no one, and now they've blown up, all for the wrong reasons. It frustrates Alex to no end, and even Henry, shirtless and sleep-mussed in his bed isn't enough to stop his relentless pacing. 

"It's just such bullshit! Zahra worked so hard on this, _we_ worked so hard on this, and all anyone cares about is whether or not we're in a relationship. They don't care about the show, they're going to buy a ticket just to see the spectacle." Henry looks at him strangely, wide blue eyes nervous, and he stops pacing. "What?" 

"Are we?" he asks carefully. "In a relationship? I mean, I know we haven't talked about it..."

"Oh. Oh, baby," he sits in front of Henry and strokes his knuckles against his cheek, Henry's hand coming out to cover his own and kiss the skin of his wrist. "I'm sorry, I got so wrapped up in all this...I want a relationship with you. I want to be exclusive, if you want that."

Henry smiles faintly. "I'd like that. Come here." Alex snuggles into his side and allows Henry to wrap an arm around him, hums as he feels kisses placed into his hair. Henry's heartbeat is steady and strong against his ear. "I know you're worried about the show, but this will all blow over soon. People will come and see all the hard work we've put into it and they'll have no choice but to forget all about us and be amazed by the performance."

"I Just don't want this to overshadow the company."

"I know. And it won't, you'll see. Like I said; give it a week, and everyone will have forgotten."

They give it a week, and people don't forget. More interview requests come in, and Zahra is happy to oblige them ("All press is good press," she always says). Alex gets asked more about his sexuality and his relationship status than about the show, and it's so difficult to not just snap every time it's blatantly ignored in favor of a question about his sex life. The only calming presence is Henry- Henry, who sits and smiles politely and never complains. He really is too good for Alex. 

As the show approaches, they fall into a rather monotonous routine- they rehearse, they eat, they sleep. Alex spends more time at Henry's apartment than his own, and no longer takes the subway. They hardly have time for anything anymore, even sex. If they're lucky they can sometimes sneak in a blow job in the morning shower, or a quickie in the back seat of Henry's car, but the most action Alex sees nowadays is a chaste kiss before bed. Their lives are entirely dedicated to practice until opening night, nothing more. 

When he has time to contemplate his life, Alex thinks he rather enjoys the domestic side Henry brings out in him. He packs he and Henry's lunches, special diets in the lead up to the first performance, and makes sure their dance bags are ready to go for the morning. Alex does the crossword in bed while Henry reads next to him, and it's so content and cozy and sweet that Alex might just throw up from the sweetness of it. 

"Four letter word for nuisance?" 

"Hm..." Henry pretends to think, tapping his finger on his chin. It makes Alex smile. "A-l-e-x."

Alex shoves him lightly, scoffing. "Jerk."

"You love it."

Both of their phones vibrate. Henry reaches for his first, setting down his book quite suddenly. He doesn't speak as he looks at the screen, mouth open and eyes wide. Alex places a tentative hand to his shoulder.

"Baby? What is it, what's wrong?"

"Alex, you don't want to see--" He reaches across Henry and takes the phone from him, scrolling up to the headline on Twitter: _Pictures Prove Romantic Relationship Between Rising Star Ballerinos Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor_

There are hundreds and hundreds of posts, all headed by the same three pictures; a picture of the two of them leaving Henry's apartment for an early-morning jog, one of Henry holding the car door open for Alex, one of them kissing in the backseat. Alex has heard the phrase many times, that people are fine with male dancers being gay until they actually act on it, but he never believed something like this could cause this much of a reaction. There are at least ten hahstags, #CancelFirstLady, #NoRomeo- some sweeter, like #Halex and #Claremont-Fox, but they seem few and far between with all this hate. 

This type of thing shouldn't be this big. Alex and Henry are D-list, at best, their relationship shouldn't be making the news. It's all because of that _Post_ article, the one that suddenly went viral and has the whole world going crazy. Something like this could ruin Henry's principal career before it's even begun. It could ruin the company. And his family...his family doesn't even know about Henry. What is his mother going to think, when she finds out that the whole world knew about her son's relationship before she did? And what about Henry? Is he angry with Alex, for keeping their relationship secret, for putting his fresh start in jeopardy? Will something like this break them up?

A thousand thoughts swirl around in his head, and he can faintly hear Henry calling for him, but it's muted over the rush of blood in his ears. He feels himself being moved gently by the shoulders to the bathroom, set on the ground, a trashcan placed between his legs; Henry's cool fingers, running through his hair and pushing curls back from his forehead as he leans forward and retches. 

He leans back against Henry's chest, resting between his legs, feeling strong arms wrap around his front. Kisses are placed to the sweat of his temple, whispered assurances in his ear. 

"It's alright, love," Henry tells him. "I've got you."

"Henry," he gasps, turning in his arms despite the resistance. "I'm so sorry. You came here to get away from everything and I ruined it--" 

"You did nothing wrong, Alex," Henry takes his face in his hands, pads of his thumbs brushing fat tears from his cheeks. "Do you hear me? Nothing."

Alex hiccups. "I'm sorry. I-if you want to leave--"

"I'm not going anywhere" he presses a kiss to his forehead. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, love."

Alex laughs a little, tearfully, and buries his face in the crook of Henry's shoulder. He feels his shoulders shaking with sobs, feels Henry's warm hands rubbing soothing circles into his back. "I just feel like I let everyone down. Zahra, the company. You."

"Don't worry about me. And don't worry about Zahra, either- 'all press is good press' remember?" Alex snorts despite himself, and Henry drops kisses to his hair. "Come on. Let's take a bath, shall we? Go ahead and get undressed, I'll give Zahra a call and tell her we're not coming in for rehearsal in the morning. Do you think you can do that for me?" He nods, albeit weakly, and watches Henry disappear into the bedroom. He gets undressed and wraps himself in one of Henry's fluffy robes, sits on the edge of the tub while Henry paces with the phone to his ear. 

He hates feeling like this; feeling like a fifteen year old again, crying in an auditorium bathroom until he pukes. This isn't his role in the relationship- Henry is supposed to have breakdowns, and Alex is supposed to fix it. It's not the other way around. It's silly, he knows, to be upset over his boyfriend taking care of him. But he knows Henry must be hurting to, even if he does put on a brave face, and he'd much rather take care of him than be the one who needs help. But it's also nice, to have someone else be the rock sometimes. 

Henry comes back in in an obvious huff, but he puts on a smile for Alex as he runs the water. When they're in the tub, comforting heat surrounding them, Alex's back against Henry's chest, he works up the nerve to ask "What did Zahra say?" He feels Henry sigh behind him, the hands rubbing soothing massages into his shoulders tensing minutely. 

"She's angry. She reported the original poster on Twitter and is talking with _The Post_ again on our behalf. She wants us to lie low for a few days, just until it calms down."

"So we have a few days off?"

"Mm." Henry's hands are replaced by his lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders, his upper arms. Alex feels the overwhelming urge to speak exactly what's on his mind. 

"Let's go somewhere.”

"Hm?"

"My dad's lake house. In Texas, let's go there for a few days. You can meet my family, and I know it's November but it'll be warm enough to swim..." Henry stops, and Alex's heart sinks. "You think it's a terrible idea, don't you." 

"No. No, Alex, I think it's a wonderful idea."

He turns around, sloshing a bit of water onto the floor, and looks up at Henry's face. "You mean it?"

"I do." he drops a kiss to his nose. "Give me some time tonight to work out the details. I'll take care of everything, I want you to relax."

"But--"

He's silenced with a kiss, and for a moment the world disappears, and everything is okay. 


	8. The Dock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter this time, but with some much-needed fluff!

They make it to Texas without too much trouble. There were a couple people with their cellphones out at the airport, obviously taking pictures, but Alex had held his hand tight and walked with his head held high. Sometimes it amazes Henry how he does this- how he was defeated last night, crying on their bathroom floor, and now he's the picture of bravery in the face of adversity. It both terrifies him and fills him with pride; he'd give anything for just five minutes inside Alex's head. 

Alex talks the whole plane ride about Texas; his favorite barbecue place, his dad's tamales, the dried chili peppers strung up above the sink. He gives advice on what to do and what not to do in front of his parents. Don't bring up politics, do complement his mother's baking even if she puts salt in the pie instead of sugar, don't talk about the Patriots or Michael Jordan. Henry gets their rental car and drives out to the lake house, right hand on Alex's knee while the left steers. Alex looks happier here; they both agreed to delete Twitter while they're here, and he thinks that helps. 

Oscar Diaz is large and imposing and frightening, and his handshake is firm; his smile disarms Henry in a frightening manner. Ellen Claremont is bubbly and full of life, but there's an intensity behind her eyes that says _hurt my son and I'll kill you._ They welcome Henry in and make him feel at home. Alex gets flustered when his mother brings out his baby photo album, and everyone laughs. 

They swim in the lake together, Alex looking irresistible in his criminally tight swim bottoms. They race and splash and kiss until the sun is hanging low in the sky and Alex is lit golden from the light. Henry stands in the middle of the lake with Alex's legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, his own hands supporting Alex's weight from beneath his bottom. Alex rests his cheek against the wet warmth of Henry's shoulder, and he smiles. 

"This suits you," he whispers after a while. Alex traces the sharp edge of Henry's jaw, eyes wide and loving. 

"Hm?"

"This. Relaxing. Not worrying about rehearsals or steps."

"That's why it's called a vacation, babe."

"You know what I mean," he leans down and presses a kiss to the spot behind Alex's ear. "I'd love to see you dance here."

Alex looks up at him with a wicked grin. "Let's do it."

It's different, dancing barefoot on the dock without shoes; it takes a moment for Henry to get used to partnering without Alex en pointe, but as soon as they get the hang of it, the flow is natural. Alex's skin is hot from the sun beneath his fingers, and beads of water from the lake drip down the tanned skin of his neck. There is no music out on the dock, and yet Henry finds the timing of the steps and tunes them in with Alex's movements; where Alex goes, he goes, where Alex leans, he leans with him. 

Something changes inside him on that dock. When he's dancing, firm hands on Alex's bare skin, lifting him and turning him, he _is_ Romeo. He feels the sadness of having to leave his Juliet behind after being banished; he feels Alex's desperation to make him stay in every motion. He sneaks kisses into the movements, an open mouth against Alex's shoulder, his lips against his palm. Their final kiss is short and sweet, and his hand comes up to cradle Alex's jaw- his lips taste like salt and lake water and it is intoxicating. Later, when they're snuggled together in Alex's twin bed, he'll watch him post the video of them dancing on the dock to his Instagram, and the smile on his face when Henry gets the post notification. 

_@alexclaremont_diaz_

_Pas de deux is built on trust. Trust that your partner will be there to hold you up. Trust that if you fall, someone will be there to catch you._

_Henry is my pas de deux partner. I trust him with my life, and recently I decided to be brave for once in my life and trust him with my heart as well._

_I am bisexual. It is Henry who helped me realize that. It should have been my decision when and where and how to tell you all, but I was not given that chance._

_I am not ashamed. Henry is my partner on and off stage, and I will never be sorry for that. There is no one else I'd rather have there to catch me when I fall._

In the morning, the two of them wake up to hundreds of notifications. Alex's post has received a hundred thousand likes over night, and almost as many comments. The video of them dancing at the dock has been reposted on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook- Buzzfeed has an article titled _Five Sweet #Halex Pictures To Remind You How Single You Are._ Henry worries he may have to take Alex to the bathroom again, but when he looks over he's smiling like a child, face almost split in half. 

Zahra's newest interview with _The Post_ has gone viral as well. She defended them in true Zahra fashion; serious and to the point, but polite enough where no one is able to bash her. She texts Henry to congratulate him on the good press and tells him to enjoy the rest of his vacation. 

They spend another day in Texas, and people start stopping them on the street, asking for selfies. Henry is happy to oblige, just happy to see the way Alex beams every time they're stopped. They both get tagged in Instagram posts featuring artwork of the two of them, and Henry tears up when he sees it. Someone draws a still moment from the dock video, the both of them in their swim trunks, Henry's arm around Alex's waist, supporting his arabesque, the two of them leaning towards each other, moments away from a kiss. It's so beautiful Henry comments and asks if he can buy a print of it.

It's nice, being in this little bubble with Alex. He gets to see a different side of him that doesn't come out much in New York. He's relaxed and vibrant and bubbly, and he sleeps eight hours a night and eats full meals. It's sad, when they have to leave. He leans his head on Alex's shoulder on the plane and smiles when Alex turns to him and brushes a few stray hairs away from his face. 

"You've got that look again," Alex remarks with a wrinkle of his nose. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," he replies honestly. 

Alex gives him a wry smile. "Shucks."

"I'm serious. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met, Alex. It's why I love you." He hears the words slip out before he can even think. He lifts his head up and pulls away, watching the expression on Alex's face. 

"You love me?"

"I...yes. I do. But you don't have to--"

Alex cuts him off with a kiss that's over all too quickly, and he smiles against his lips. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to the bedroom scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fdE4nYibJk


	9. Grand Reverence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grand Reverence- An elaborate curtsy performed at the end of ballet class as a gesture of mutual respect between teacher and student

Opening night comes in a blur of interviews and Twitter posts. The company is getting more press than anyone ever imagined, and Zahra announces at the last rehearsal that all eight shows are completely sold out. Alex has been getting tagged in so many things he's just given up and turned off his phone 24/7.

It's all just too much. He knows this is what he asked for, what he's always wanted, to have his name out there, to be an inspiration. You know how sometimes people say careful what you wish for? Alex is wishing someone told that to him right about now.

It's great, getting to be representation for kids out there who don't see themselves getting represented at all. But it's so much pressure. It's all on him to make sure he doesn't screw up the one scrap that these kids have. 

Of course, Henry is amazing. He's a total rock, he always knows exactly what to say in every situation; he holds Alex's hand in interviews and lets him squeeze it when he gets too nervous. But it's just so hard for Alex to let go. To let someone else take care of him. He feels guilty for making Henry have to deal with all his worrying when he's probably freaking out too. 

He makes the mistake of peeking out of the wings. Every seat in the house is filled- some by older men and women in bow ties and dresses, and a lot filled with twenty-somethings holding rainbow flags. Alex feels his head get light and his vision begins to blur; the world tilts and spins like a top, and it takes all the strength he has in him to drag himself to the bathroom before he vomits all over the stage.

When he's done and his throat burns from the retching, he leans against the cool plastic of the bathroom stall and takes deep, heaving breaths. He can see the sweat slick on his bare chest and the heavy rise and fall of his breathing. His cheek feel wet even though he doesn't remember crying, but he can feel the lump in his throat and knows it's happening even now. He curses when the door to the bathroom opens and light footsteps fall against the linoleum.

"Alex?" he hears Henry ask. "Are you in here?" Alex sighs and reaches up to undo the lock. He hears the sharp inhale that comes from his boyfriend, feels his large hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He keeps his gaze steady on the floor, knowing Henry's eyes will be wide with worry; he's put him through enough lately. 

"Alex. Alex, love, look at me." The hurt is apparent in his voice. "Look at me. What's wrong?"

He sniffs and brings his eyes up. Henry looks perfect and beautiful and radiant, and Alex thinks he probably looks like he just crawled out of a sewer. He probably has mascara running down his face and snot on his nose. Henry's sympathetic look only makes him feel worse. He feels small and fifteen and afraid, and his limbs are made of lead and tongue is a heavy weight in his mouth.

"Oh, my love," he brushes some sweaty hair away from Alex's forehead and kisses the spot where it once was. 

"I can't do it, Henry," he gets out shakily. "I can't go out there. Not with all those people counting on me."

"Yes you can. I know you can do it."

"I just don't want to let them down."

Henry's thumbs brush the tears from the apples of his cheeks. "You won't. Alex, I promise you, you're not going to let anyone down."

"You don't know that--"

"I do. You've worked so hard, Alex, so hard. You're going to be amazing." He shakes his head and buries his face in the crook of Henry's shoulder. Henry just shushes him and runs slender fingers through his hair. "You belong on that stage. You do."

"What if I throw up on stage? What if I fall?"

"I won't let you. I'm your partner, yes? I won't let you fall."

He nods a little and pulls away, running a hand under his eyes to wipe the mascara away. Henry looks handsome in his costume, thick white tights and a baby blue jacket with puffed sleeves that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. The white shirt beneath is open just a bit to reveal smooth pale skin, sparkly from the makeup. Nora and June will be dressed similarly, but the blue will complement Henry the most. It makes him feel better, seeing him in his costume. Henry isn't afraid. Henry will be there to catch him.

"Okay," he sniffs. "okay."

Henry helps him up, keeping a steadying hand on the small of his back. He presses gentle kisses to the back of Alex's neck as he helps him get into his costume. Amy really outdid herself this time with the design- the shirt is beautiful, a blowy, gauzy thing with billowing sleeves and delicate gold detail, a gold thread creating a corset lace starting at his mid-back. It's oversized so it comes down to the mid thigh of his white linen capris, detailed gold to match the shirt. The whole costume is expertly designed, loose to provide more feminine movement, and the circlet of pearls in his hair is a stark contrast against dark curls. He watches in the mirror as Henry kisses the top of his shoulder carefully. 

"Beautiful," he whispers against his skin. Alex closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth; he purposefully does not look at his phone. "Are you ready?"

He opens his eyes. "Let's do this."

Act one goes off without a hitch. Alex nails his variations, and the balcony scene earns a standing ovation; the teenagers with rainbow flags wave them around while they clap. Act two has the audience in tears, and when Alex takes his dying breaths and lays down beside Henry, the applause is thunderous. They have a moment to themselves when the curtain closes, and Alex feels himself lifted into Henry's arms and spun around. He presses kisses all over his boyfriend's face, drinking in pale skin under the bright lights. 

"You did it," Henry whispers in his ear. "you were amazing."

They bow with hands held tight and Alex's face feels like it's going to fall off with how hard he's grinning. He can see that the theater is filled with rainbow flags now, held high over people's heads as they cheer and scream. It's totally against proper etiquette and it's so much better. All the stress of the past few weeks melts away, and Alex can only smile. He wants to kiss Henry desperately, right there on stage. He squeezes his hand instead. It's a small act, but not a weak one, and Henry's smile is brighter than any stage light.

_Dancing Duo Takes World by Storm_

_Male ballet partners Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor made headlines earlier this October with details about their personal relationship. The story left many ballet fans wondering: is their on stage chemistry as strong as in real life?_

_Reader, I can tell you with absolute certainty, that Alex and Henry were born to be partners. I had the pleasure of catching their opening night performance of Romeo and Juliet, and I must say I've never been that moved by a ballet in my entire life. The two of them work together as if they've been doing it their entire lives, and the pure emotion between them is unmatched. Even though I knew how the story ended, I found myself still shocked when the inevitable happened. I remember thinking to myself- how could they still both die in the end? What kind of a cruel world do we live in, where true love ends in tragedy?_

_In Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and two heads. Zeus, king of the gods, was afraid of their power, so he separated them into two people, condemning humanity to spending their entire lives finding their missing half. Now, I don't know how many of you out there are hopeless romantics like me and believe in such a thing as soulmates. But before you make up your mind- before you decide that there can be no such possible thing as a soulmate- I highly suggest you watch a Diaz-Fox performance. If that doesn't change your mind, then nothing will._

_First Lady Ballet Company has announced that this pair will be gracing the stage again for their December performance of The Nutcracker, as the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier. I don't know about all of you, but I will certainly be buying my tickets well in advance. This reporter would not be surprised if, by the end of the year, the names Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor are as widely known as the likes of Anna Pavlolva and Misty Copeland. I, for one, will be keeping a close eye on them and First Lady Ballet Company from now on._

They celebrate closing night with a bottle of Champagne and a bubble bath. Alex puts bubbles in Henry's hair, relishing in the stead pressure of his boyfriend's head against his chest. The champagne is sweet on his tongue and makes him feel light and brainless and spent. He listens to Henry hum and the light fizz of the champagne, and thinks about what that reporter said. Maybe she was right- maybe Henry is his other half- or maybe she's wrong. Maybe people just made the story up to feel a little less lonely in the world. Whatever the truth is, half or not half, soulmate or no soulmate, Alex thinks Henry's pretty great.

"Henry."

"Hm?"

"I want your opinion on something."

"I'm listening."

He's grateful that Henry can't see the sly smile creeping across his face. "I've been thinking about changing my name."

"Oh? To what?"

"Well, I'm not sure. How does Alex Claremont-Diaz-Fox sound?"

Henry's kiss is answer enough.


End file.
